


Devoted To His Craft

by Interrobang



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, The Love Is Requited They're Just Idiots, im so sorry for this i will retreat to my cave right away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28577082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: Theseus is an artist of some renown and recruits Asterius as his latest model. It's all going well until he asks Asterius to model nude.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 299





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry y'all this is SO goofy and yet played completely straight for the most part. If you can spot the exact line that made me ascend from my mortal body into the ether upon realizing what I had written, I will whisper god's true name in your ear as a reward.
> 
> My apologies for any leftover typos, as I have no beta.

.

If questioned, Asterius wouldn’t know how to even begin to explain his relationship with Theseus. It had started at the gym they both went to, when Theseus had approached him, vigorously praised his physique, and begged him to pose for reference photos. He was an artist, he said, with a quite large following on the world wide web, and he especially loved to draw the form of the rare non-human model. A more in-depth conversation (the man did not seem to need _more_ caffeine, but Asterius allowed him to buy them protein shakes at the gym’s smoothie bar) revealed that Theseus had been looking for someone of Asterius’s “delightfully robust” build (Theseus’s words) for his most recent series of erotic portraits.

Asterius had been suspicious at first. But he understood the need for variety in visual references, to expand an artist’s skillset. And he _did_ put a lot of work into caring for his body, which meant that he...stood out. He was tall, yes, and his horns sharp and his shoulders broad, but he also had all the muscular bulk of the largest bull in the field. It was sometimes inconvenient, to be unable to blend in on the subway or fit into a small cab, but here he’d found someone that vocally and repeatedly expressed how much they liked it.

The modeling had started out innocently enough. Clothed, posing with various props. It felt much like he was being walked through a new routine by a trainer, his posture and posing adjusted minutely by Theseus’s firm touch. This went on for a few weeks, Theseus praising him constantly before asking him to adjust once more in his little studio, before the mood of things changed.

Up to this point, Asterius had not looked at Theseus’s work much. He had looked at the Theseus’s public page and it did, indeed, appear to be painterly scenes that were quite beautiful and did very frequently focus on the non-human. There was a gorgon in her garden, tastefully covered by her trailing, hissing locks; a series of sketches of a fury in action that were more titillating, but action-oriented and striking; and even a centaur with rippling abs frolicking in a field in the sun, sweat dripping down his chest and hide. All seemingly innocuous.

He determinedly did not look at the linked “Adults Only” portfolio of work. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that much about it.

Asterius strove to be as kind to strangers as he possibly could be— not for the praise, but just to do a good thing for someone who needed it, as someone had once done for him. And indeed, rarely were his efforts acknowledged, and he often accidentally intimidated those he tried to assist. But at every encounter Asterius was now effusively praised for his kind nature, his strong, heroic heart, and his beautiful soul, which Theseus said he strove to capture in his work.

Theseus seemed to like everything about Asterius, and what’s more, he _showed_ it. The praise and constant affirmation of their friendship and Theseus’s desire to know Asterius was...special. Asterius couldn’t be to blame if he developed a bit of affection in return. It was nice to be wanted. To be _appreciated—_ and what’s more, to be thought valuable. That was what got him the most.

And so he posed and let himself be shuffled around in Theseus’s studio from angle to angle, the artist’s eyes on him the whole time. If it made him a bit hot, well, his fur did hide a blush well.

But then a few weeks into the arrangement came the request that stopped him cold. Asterius wasn’t _shy_ exactly, but it _was_ a little startling to suddenly hear Theseus loudly proclaim, “Friend Asterius! You do have a mighty physique, but I can’t quite see it in all its glory with those baggy rags you call clothes. Might I persuade you to remove them?”

“Ah...Sir?” Asterius hesitated, unsure if he was reading this right.

“I would very much like to sketch the musculature of your glutes in more detail, but your clothes leave far too much to the imagination,” Theseus said with a wide grin, throwing him a thumbs’ up. “Might I ask you to remove them so we may continue today’s session?”

“...of course,” Asterius said, slowly moving to remove the loose shorts he’d worn for this. “Do you need me to remove my top as well?”

“Splendid idea, my friend! All the better to capture your rippling back muscles.” Theseus sat back in his chair and scribbled frantically as Asterius slowly undressed, carefully folding his clothes to lay on the table next to where he often posed. He was unsure what to do now that he was mostly nude. The room was quite chilly. He felt his fur bristle as a shiver went down his back, his short tail twitching.

When he glanced back up, Theseus was staring intently, biting the end of his pencil as his eyes flicked back and forth over Asterius with great intensity. “Just… capturing the scene,” Theseus assured him with another flash of bright white teeth. “You’re doing _very_ well.”

Something warmed in Asterius’s chest at the praise, and his stood a little bit straighter, willing himself to take up all the space Theseus seemed to think he deserved.

—

And now this.

“Dear Asterius, would you please move a little to the left, and raise your knee just a tad— yes, arch your back like that, wonderful! Your testicles are magnificent!”

“Thank you, Sir,” Asterius murmured as he held the pose. The lamp on him was bright and golden, a pleasant heat as he closed his eyes and held the pose he’d been directed into. He could hear Theseus scratching away frantically at his sketchbook. He huffed, the prickle of sweat along his back a sign that he would soon have to take a break.

“Might I assist with a pose redirection?” Theseus said quite suddenly, standing and circling around Asterius’s staging area.

“Of course, Sir,” Asterius said with a nod. He huffed quietly as Theseus’s hand landed on his back, fingers digging subtly into the thin dark fur along his shoulders, brushing along the soft grain of it down his spine. Asterius fought a shiver as Theseus pressed on his lower back, deepening the arch of it, while encouraging Asterius to raise his hips minutely, widening his stance. It did, indeed, leave Asterius quite vulnerable. If he wasn’t already used to the artist’s handsiness, he might have gotten nervous. As it was, he was used to it.

Theseus’s hands brushed along his hips, angling him this way and that. It went on for some time, Theseus murmuring to himself with “ah, not quite!” or “hmm, perhaps _this_ way…” as he fussed.

“Is there something specific you’re going for?” Asterius asked at last, when Theseus’s hands had groped and adjusted every small line of muscle along his hips and thighs.

“Well!” Theseus did not _blush_ exactly, but his cheeks did darken in excitement. “I only...er! Hm.” He frowned, uncharacteristically lost for words. “I have a specific need for this piece. I have tried to find good reference photos elsewhere, but none I have been able to dredge up quite match your magnificence.”

“What of, Sir?” Asteriuis asked, still holding his pose. His tail twitched back and forth from the attention. He willed his ears not to prick forward in excitement as well.

“Your member, my friend. It’s beautiful as it is, hidden away though it may be… but I need— I wish to see you aroused.” The artist _did_ flush then, clapping Asterius on the shoulder jovially. “The angle is off, you see, and though I can do quite a bit with artistic interpretation, I feel I would— _we_ would— benefit from direct reference.”

“I...see,” Asterius said slowly, the cogs turning in his brain. “This is...something you want? From me specifically?”

“Yes!” Theseus said quite quickly, though his eyes seemed to meet just to the right of Asterius’s own. “Very much. Need it, in fact, quite direly. I have a large audience, and you have been a _very_ popular subject, of late. The internet loves you, my bovine friend.”

“I don’t think I can just, er, will that to happen, though I would like to help you,” Asterius said sheepishly.

Theseus wilted a bit, then brightened as an idea seemed to come over him. “Then I shall assist!”

“Ah…” Asterius decidedly did flush then, grateful that his fur would hide it for the most part. His ears twitched back and forth as he thought over the offer; he was still arched in his kneeling, vulnerable pose, more exposed than he’d been ever before. Indeed, Theseus was still standing behind him, hand on his hip, fingers drumming against soft fur-covered skin as he waited for Asterius’s reply. “Yes, that would be...acceptable,” he finally murmured, unable to help the way his tail eagerly twitched to the side.

“Wonderful!” Theseus declared, standing back to observe him more fully. “Though I admit I am familiar only in theory with your, er, _unique_ anatomy. You will have to walk me through it.”

“It’s not so different from your own,” Asterius said warily, widening his stance. His testicles twitched when Theseus lay his hand on his hip again, petting softly as if soothing a wild animal. When Asterius managed a glance behind him, Theseus was staring intently between Asterius’s legs like he was contemplating a puzzle. It was...not inherently the most arousing sight, and yet something in the artist’s eyes was hungry in a way that Asterius was not wholly familiar with. He had seen that kind of look directed at others, but not often at himself, and it was...validating. To be so intently looked upon.

“May I— may I touch you?” Theseus said, voice uncharacteristically wavering for a moment.

Asterius huffed, nodding shyly. He let out a bitten-off sigh as Theseus’s hand slid over his hip and squeezed one round buttock for a moment, petting the base of his tail curiously before dipping lower. The first touch of Theseus’s hand to his testicles was unexpected, despite the anticipation. His grip was gentler than Asterius might have expected, his hands warm and firm as they stroked the velvety skin of his sac and rolled his heavy balls in his palm consideringly.

Asterius breathed deeply, careful to keep his tail from wagging back and forth. It often had a mind of its own, but he could keep it in check for at least a little bit.

He inhaled sharply as Theseus slid his hand down further to rub over his sheath. The skin there was ultra sensitive, thin and warm and full of nerve endings that positively _sang_ as Theseus rubbed over them. Against his will a deep sigh exited Asterius’s chest, a ragged, throaty moan grumbling its way out of his throat.

At once Theseus’s hand pulled away.

“This would perhaps be easier if you were to sit and allow me to, er, work?” he suggested stiltedly. He gestured at the loveseat he kept in the center of the studio, supposedly to nap on when he needed a brief recharge to his energy.

Asterius lumbered awkwardly over to the seat, lowering himself into the cradle of it with a great creaking on the couch’s part, though it held. Theseus followed, kneeling on the floor in front of Asterius like he truly was about to worship.

“I really should invest in a better camera for these deeper angles,” Theseus muttered to himself as he looked up at Asterius reverentially. “I doubt it would be very good for me to stay down here sketching for hours on end.”

“Does the position pain you, Sir?” Asterius asked.

Theseus waved away the concern with one flicking hand. “Nonsense, my friend. A short stint in prostration will do me no harm. Now, let’s see about you.” With that, he leaned forward, hands grabbing Asterius’s knees and gently pulling them apart so that he was fully exposed.

It was an extremely vulnerable position, but Asterius found he didn’t mind. Indeed, he actually felt _excited_ to be sitting like this, Theseus’s attention so rapt that it almost felt like he was the main dish in some grand feast, to be fallen upon with great hunger. Theseus slid his hands up and down Asterius’s thighs, fingers scratching through the fine fur along his muscled legs.

“What an angle!” Theseus declared (and wasn’t it always a declaration with him?) as he looked up at Asterius gleefully. “Absolutely decadent to look at, my friend.”

Asterius gripped the couch cushions as Theseus ran his palms up and down Asterius’s abdominals, feeling up close for the first time the muscles he had drawn so much over the last few weeks. The artist skirted his sheath at first, though he did softly pet his testicles once more, pressing on the soft skin of them and relishing the twitching weight of them against his palm.

But faced with Asterius’s actual sheath, he hesitated.

“You will have to help me with this, dear friend,” Theseus said at last after looking his fill. “I want this to be pleasurable for you, and I do fear hurting you in my unfamiliarity.”

“It’s...simple…” Asterius sighed. He reached out ever so gently to hold Theseus’s hand in his own, placing it at the base of his sheath, just above his balls. “Just rub gently, and it will come out.”

Theseus did so immediately, softly at first. His eyes lit up in excitement as he felt Asterius’s shaft under the soft skin of his sheath, slipping upwards in his growing arousal. The artist massaged him this way for long minutes, leaning ever closer as he did so. His heat between Asterius’s thighs was immense, a furnace of a magnitude Asterius had never felt. Part of him wanted badly to wrap his legs around Theseus’s shoulders and hold him there, just to savor the warmth against the most delicate part of his body.

Theseus’s breath came quickly as he worked over Asterius’s cock. He was a quick and eager student, his eyes flicking up and down over Asterius’s rising and falling chest, his head tilted back just a bit against the back of the couch. Each time he did something that made Asterius twitch under him or let out a small sigh Theseus grinned to himself, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Asterius found himself wondering what it would be like to press his own mouth to Theseus’s...or to feel it around his cock, stretched tight as he thrust into the artist’s mouth.

Asterius’s cock emerged slowly out of the sheath as Theseus continued to massage it, the shaft light pink and speckled, thick veins throbbing up the side of it. It was slick and wet, shining in the golden lamp-glow of Theseus’s studio.

“Are these birthmarks common among minotaurs?” Theseus asked quietly. “Only in this region of the body, or…?”

“There are… _ah!”_ Asterius moaned as Theseus ran a finger down the slick length of him. “I have more… across my body. Under _…ngh..._ under my fur.”

“I see,” Theseus said dazedly. “They are quite beautiful, Asterius. Very charming.”

“Thank you…” Asterius groaned, throwing his head back as Theseus’s hand closed around his shaft, warm palm sliding over the tender skin. His breath came in great huffs and unconscious snorts as Theseus closed not one, but _both_ hands around him, holding up the great length him to wobble tenuously before his face. Asterius managed one look down at Theseus determinedly observing the weight of the cock in his hands before his hips jerked and he came back to himself.

“Is this _…oh..._ not sufficient, Theseus?” Asterius managed to grit out, willing his breath to even out. “For your reference?”

“I...perhaps,” Theseus admitted slowly (reluctantly?), though his hands did not move. That damned pink tongue flickered out again, wetting his bite-swollen lips. Asterius blinked heavily, trying to clear his head of the mental image of Theseus’s cheeks hollowed around him, sharp cheekbones jutting out as the artist sucked with as much force as he could give. “But…” he swallowed thickly. “More detail _is_ always better…”

His hand squeezed once, drawing up the hot length of Asterius’s cock deliberately slowly. At the apex he squeezed one fist, thumb massaging the frenulum until Asterius shuddered with his whole body, a spurt of semi-transluscent precome welling up along the flat tip of it to drip down and wet Theseus’s knuckles.

“What if…” Asterius gasped. “What if you recorded it? Surely... _Ngh!_ Surely then you could review it later, when your hands were not so _...ah!_ So engaged.”

“Yes, I...yes,” Theseus said dazedly. He shook his head as if to clear it, standing up at once and stumbling only minutely. He stared at his wet hand for a long moment as if considering his options, then wiped it on his pants and started looking around for his tripod setup.

Now the artist set it up facing the loveseat Asterius was seated on, his hands uncharacteristically shaky. He was flushed head to toe, though Asterius found he could hardly look at the man until his back was turned.

Oh, but what exquisite torture. Asterius sighed, willing himself under control. He absently wiped the sweat from his overheated body, avoiding touching anywhere near his lap. Even though it took a few long minutes for Theseus to set up properly, Asterius found he was still hard— eager, even, his cock twitching when Theseus bent over to adjust the tripod’s legs, revealing the fine curve of his backside. How easy it would be to simply stand and grab Theseus by the hips and hold him in place— to slot his cock between those muscled thighs and rut between them until he spilled his seed over Theseus’s groin and legs, leaving it to drip messily...would Theseus thank him for his work? Or would he be appalled, as so many others seemed at the idea of bedding Asterius in any completory manner?

He was shaken out of his thoughts by Theseus kneeling back down before him, scooting even closer than before until his elbows rested on Asterius’s thighs, his face closer than ever to the throbbing weight of Asterius’s cock in front of him.

“Truly magnificent,” Theseus said with a grin. “You are certainly the finest specimen I’ve ever had model for me, Asterius.”

“Thank you,” Asterius snorted, turning away bashfully. He was still so hot, his body thrumming with arousal. Every bit of skin that Theseus touched seemed to throb with heat, the warmth of him suffusing Asterius like ambrosial wine.

And then his hands returned. Warm and calloused and gripping just the right side of firm, Theseus seemed determined to wring as much pleasure out of Asterius as he could. Asterius groaned, hips shifting towards the man in front of him.

“Yes!” Theseus encouraged him. “Just like that. Relax, my friend, and give yourself over to the pleasure. You look _exquisite_.” He hummed happily, leaning even closer to murmur up at Asterius, “Enjoy yourself. You are a work of art all your own, dear Asterius.”

“Ah…!” Asterius moaned, letting his head drop back. Lucky that the couch was in the center of the room, or he’d have decimated the plaster behind him by now. “Th-that is very kind of you to say...”

Theseus reached up and grabbed Asterius’s chin, tugging him down to meet his frown. And yet he pumped his hands, squeezing slick and hot over Asterius’s shaft. “What must I do to convince you of your beauty?” he asked, briefly biting his lip as he voiced his concern. “I am _honored_ to have the privilege to preserve your form through my art; this is no hardship for me. I would not have approached you in the first place if I did not think you were breathtaking.”

“S-stop…” Asterius moaned. Precome dripped down his cock to coat Theseus’s knuckles again, wet and shining and obscenely loud as Theseus slicked his hands up and down Asterius’s length. “You flatter me too much, Sir.”

“And _I_ say you deserve it all, and more,” Theseus argued. His hands sped up as he spoke. “You are a wonderful person— kind, brave, steadfast and noble, with a body carved by the gods and your own hard work. I could not hope for a better friend, a better colleague, a better—”

With a great groan Asterius felt himself come undone, shuddering as Theseus pushed between his legs to observe his orgasm in detail. It seemed to last forever, his balls drawing up to pulse against Theseus’s wrist, his questing fingers gripping the full swell of his testicles as they throbbed in pleasure. Through heavily-lidded eyes Asterius watched pulse after pulse of come coat Theseus's hands and drip down his forearms. A single rope of it splattered idly over the artist’s cheek, too close to avoid collateral damage, and as it hit Theseus blinked, his long golden eyelashes fluttering closed, his mouth open in surprise.

Asterius’s breath heaved through his chest as the climax seemed to last an eternity, every inch of him humming with pleasure. At last he collapsed back on the couch with a final shiver and snort.

And still Theseus kneeled between his thighs. Now he watched, panting open-mouthed and heavy as he rested his come-coated hands on Asterius’s groin, gently running a finger down the considerable— but retreating— length of Asterius’s cock as it softened and began to return to his sheath.

“Well!” Theseus said at last, when his breath was not so ragged and he seemed able to stand more firmly. He grabbed a rag from his side table (paint-stained though it was) and offered it to Asterius after he’d wiped his hands as clean as he could get them and turned off the camera. “That was...educational.”

Asterius snorted a wry laugh. “Indeed.” He stood on legs as shaky as a calf’s, going to redress himself. He was stopped by Theseus’s hand on his shoulder, urging him to turn around.

“I have not scared you off, have I, my friend?” Theseus said, looking genuinely worried. “Only I do not wish to… to overwhelm, or make you anxious.”

“No,” Asterius said with a shake of his head. Indeed, he actually felt quite safe. “Don’t worry. I understand well what this was about.”

“You… _do?”_ Theseus said, seeming nervous— yet pleased? “Wonderful! Then you would not mind doing that again?”

“Your art is so important to you,” Asterius said, shaking his head incredulously as he began to dress himself. “And you work so hard. It’s one of the many things I admire about you, Sir.”

“Ah, yes,” Theseus said, his smile wobbling for some reason. “My art. Mmm.”

“If you have need for more...more references,” Asterius said, feeling the blush build again at the mere word, “I am… available. Though I would prefer to know you not do this with all your models.”

“Of course not,” Theseus said with a frown. “None have ever challenged my creative spirit as much as you have.”

Asterius felt himself calm at that, his shoulders relaxing. “Then we are in agreement.”

“Indeed!” Theseus said, grinning again. There was still a sheen of come on his cheek. Asterius stared at the damning drop, unsure if he should mention it.

“Then...next week?” Asterius asked cautiously.

“Ah...yes!” Theseus said, his cheeks now taking on a ruby tone. “Next week.”

“Then take care, Sir,” Asterius said, closing the door to the studio behind him. “And thank you.”

Outside the door, now properly alone, Asterius sighed.

It was just a business arrangement; Theseus was _very_ devoted to his craft. It was unlikely he actually returned Asterius’s affections in that way. Perhaps one day Asterius would stop being a coward and impose his feelings upon Theseus… but today was not that day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More bad decisions! Terrible nonsense! Sincere and heartfelt declarations!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I wrote this in like a week, and most of it honestly in a fugue state over the course of 5 hours yesterday. "Are you okay?" you may ask. No. <3 I have Thesterius brainworms, thanks for asking. :)

“I just don’t get it, mate,” Zagreus said to Asterius as he handed over his smoothie. The gym was slow, it being a Wednesday afternoon, and Zagreus, son of the owner of the gym and university-break smoothie bar captive, had taken up conversing with anyone who walked by to stave off the boredom. Asterius spent enough time at the gym and its connected refreshment stand that he and Zagreus had built up a sort of rapport.

“What do you not get, short one?” Asterius asked as he poked a straw into his cup.

“What you see in him,” Zagreus answered, nodding towards the door to the tanning lounge. It was obvious that he meant Theseus, who had been in there for a full 10 minutes and was due to emerge soon, oiled and as browned as a well-fried chicken tender. “I know you’re, er, _close,_ but doesn’t he give you...I don’t know, bad vibes? He’s a little creepy.”

Asterius fought the urge to bristle at Zagreus’s ill-informed comment. “That is a very rude thing to say about a devoted member of your father’s establishment.”

Zagreus rolled his eyes. “Alright, yes, he’s sweet to you, I get it. He just gives me the feeling that he’s up to something whenever I turn my back. Like he has some terrible secret that he’s trying too hard to hide.”

Asterius sipped his smoothie, staidly not thinking of the trove of furry porn Theseus had in his portfolio, and instead going for a compliment. “He is a complicated man. You would do well to be kinder to him in your thoughts.”

“Hmm,” Zagreus hummed noncommittally. “Fuck, here he comes. Good talking with you, Asterius.” With that, he hopped to the other side of the counter and started furiously cleaning the blender, obviously trying to look too busy to engage with Theseus himself.

“Yes, fiend, good to see you finally found a work ethic!” Theseus declared as he strode boldly up to the counter. He looked Asterius up and down. “You’ve outdone yourself, Asterius!” he said approvingly. “Your muscles are quite plump and vivacious today. Perfect for our afternoon activities!”

 _“Gods save me_ ,” Zagreus muttered under his breath. Asterius ignored him. Theseus did not seem to hear at all.

“Thank you, Sir,” Asterius said, ducking his head shyly. He sipped his smoothie; it was the largest size the smoothie bar sold and probably contained an entire bunch of bananas, but it still was gone in a few sips. He sighed, already feeling better after the intense burn of his weightlifting regime. “You are ready to leave, then?”

“Almost. Foul smoothie demon!” Theseus called out to Zagreus. He slapped his card, a smooth black, down on the counter. “Top off Asterius’s account with plenty of credit for future refreshment. He deserves to get the optimum nutrition needed to maintain his magnificent form!” He flashed a grin at Asterius, who further flushed, ears flicking back and forth in demure delight.

Tab taken care of, Asterius and Theseus left the gym together. On Asterius’s work days they often travelled from gym to studio together after a warm-up to ready their minds and bodies for the work ahead.

They headed to the nearby subway station amicably, Theseus trotting along quickly to keep up with Asterius’s slower but longer strides. Asterius was glad Theseus was willing to take public transportation, despite the inconvenience; the artist had initially suggested a tandem bicycle of all things after Asterius said he disliked usually-too-small cabs, but Asterius had steered him away from the idea by pointing out that they would be hard-pressed to find a bike sized and balanced correctly for two people of their differing masses.

If pressed, Asterius would admit that the subway was not his _favorite_ mode of transportation, but it was certainly useful, and less embarrassing and stressful than trying to cram himself into the back seat of a compact sedan. The underground nature of it all was labyrinthine and claustrophobic, but even Asterius, with his fear of enclosed spaces and crowds, could admire the convenience of it.

His least favorite part of it however was the actual train car. Though the cars were built with taller humans and possibly even some demigods in mind, Asterius had the added height of his horns, and had to duck his head to make sure he did not scrape the inside of the train car. It made it hard to focus, staring down at the floor so he could keep his balance.

Theseus stood in front of him the whole time, glaring at anyone who looked at Asterius even slightly dubiously. His posture and expression seemed to say, “Keep back, demons! Do not besmirch my friend with your looks of jealousy and incomprehension. Can you not see how rare and noble your company is in this, the third car of the Blue Line?” It was gratifying to have that protection, Asterius admitted to himself as he stood carefully in the space beside the sliding doors, as far from the crowd as he could get so he would not gore someone if the car came to a sudden stop.

Theseus was not short by human standards, but still he was dwarfed by Asterius’s bulk. In the dim light of the underground, it was easy to press up against the human, snout tilted down to keep his horns out the way, and huff against his back.

“Careful, Sir, or you’ll scare the train car empty,” Asterius murmured in his ear.

“Worry not, dear friend,” Theseus said, flashing him a gleaming smile. “I shall only impose my protection on you in this dangerous space. No doubt some fool would see your demure demeanor and think you an easy target for pick-pocketing; I will guard you to the best of my ability.”

Asterius snorted, touched, though he somehow thought the fact that he was nine feet tall and half as broad would put a stop to most robbers’ intentions. Theseus, who at times brought to mind a very territorial chihuahua, made something in Asterius’s chest feel all mushy and soft.

At last stepping out into fresh air near Theseus’s studio, Asterius stretched, rolling his head to shake out the kinks from staying hunched for so long.

“I shall have to massage you when we are done today,” Theseus declared. “After that arduous journey and your work with me today you will no doubt be sore. But there will be time for that later!” he continued. “Let us get on with the work while your physique is still full and straining from exercise.”

Despite Asterius’s most secret wishes, Theseus had not touched him since the first nude modelling request. There was still the occasional request for him to bare himself, but it was far less….interactive. Theseus stayed his distance, preferring to voice his need for pose changes rather than touch Asterius directly. At first Asterius had wondered if he had done something wrong; then he decided that if he had, he would not bring it up and risk ruining things further.

But he missed the regular, casual conversations they had once held...and he missed Theseus’s touch. The artist was unusually quiet these days, though his gaze was still intense and his hands worked frantically as ever.

“Is your work going well, Sir?” Asterius brought himself to ask at last, breaking the silence.

“Oh! Yes, very!” Theseus declared joyously. “I have gained some number of new followers as of late. Though that can only be expected with such a marvelous muse!”

 _His muse_ , Asterius thought astoundedly, feeling his face warm. His ears flicked back and forth nervously, and he had to fight to keep his tail from swishing excitedly as well. Instead he snorted, shifting his grip on the prop axe he was holding.

“I... I have been reluctant to look at any of the work I have inspired,” Asterius admitted at last. “It must be very good indeed to entice so many new admirers.”

“Truly, you have not?” Theseus seemed surprised. “Well! Though I have yet to _fully_ capture your noble soul through my brush strokes, I would still say they are a marvelous likeness of your buxom shape...and with a bit of artistic flair, the whole world can see how much I adore you— your _form_ ,” he finished, voice cracking on the last word. “Though I admit I am nervous to see your reaction to them.”

“Nervous, Sir?” Asterius asked, slowly straightening from his battle-ready stance. This was new. “Why?”

“Well!” Theseus squeaked, tittering nervously as he set down his sketchbook and graphite. “You are… aware of the nature of my more popular work?” he said, cheeks dusted pink.

“I am familiar with your preferred subject matter, though I have not engaged with it myself,” Asterius said, nodding.

“Yes, well, they are—” Theseus coughed again. Should he get him a glass of water? “Erotic in nature, of course, and you _do_ strike quite the figure. Especially after that _one_ fated session…” He trailed off, the crimson tint of his cheeks now spreading down his neck. Asterius found himself wondering just how far down his chest it would spread, and how it would feel to chase it with his tongue. “You would not feel...violated, or— or put-upon, to see the, er, fantasies of— of _others_ , mind you— that I have depicted you taking part in?”

Asterius’s nostrils flared as he snorted, ears flicking in interest. “There is a part of me that is deeply curious, though I do not know to what extent I would be willing to indulge it.”

“Would you... _like_ to see them?” Theseus asked after an extended silence, in which he squirmed in his seat, eyes not quite meeting Asterius’s.

Asterius paused. This felt like a bad idea. Not a trap, per se, but a dangerous path to travel down nonetheless.

But it would be rude to not show an interest in his benefactor’s— nay, his _friend’s—_ work, wouldn’t it?

“I would be honored to see what you have crafted with me as your inspiration,” he said at last. He steeled himself as Theseus shuffled over to his desk, pulling out canvases and stacks of thick paper, watercolor pencils and ink pens clattering over his messy desk.

Theseus shuffled the stack of materials nervously for several minutes, arranging them in some order that seemed to matter only to him, but very deeply so, before he handed them over to Asterius to peruse.

The variety and exaggeration of the poses were certainly... _something_. Much of it was surprisingly tasteful, actually, and Asterius found himself very flattered by many of the initial works on the top of the stack. They were studies in masculinity: him posing with weapons, or holding great bulky objects, or displaying his muscles with great vigor (though they looked much more exaggerated here than they ever had in the mirror).

Then they became...different. Increasingly sexual, dipping from erotic into outrageously, exaggeratedly pornographic. Though he was aware he was large, he was not sure he had ever _loomed_ quite so much as depicted here. Did Theseus think him so imposing? Though the vacuum-sealed meat of his pectorals seemed, at least, _aimed_ to be flattering.

“You have…” Asterius struggled to think of the right phrasing. “...great, er, artistic range, Sir.”

Theseus brightened. “Yes, I do, don’t I,” he said, seeming pleased with Asterius’s lukewarm praise. “I do believe I have improved my mastery of lighting and shadow; see how I have darkened the edge of the shadow of your member through this sheet, displaying its beautiful veins as the drape of cloth lays upon it?” He beamed up at Asterius. “I put a lot of effort into the translucency of the satin.”

Asterius nodded silently, reluctantly flipping further through the stack. There were a lot of pictures of him with emphasis on his bulk...and quite a few with his cock out, teasing out of his sheath in a few of the less obscene images but bulging almost comically in others. Asterius found he preferred the ones that were more realistic; the others put him off somehow, their intense colors and lighting a little too much for his sensibilities.

At the back of the stack, stuck to the back of a very detailed drawing of his testicles and asshole, was a smaller painting, done in soft watercolors: Asterius sitting simply on the couch in the center of the studio, a teacup in one hand as he contemplatively gazed off-frame. It was a gentler image, the pencil lines soft and faintly smudged, as if it had been held many times by nervous fingers. It was genuinely touching— and so literally small, the doodle barely the size of a postcard. Asterius picked held it up to the light to look at more closely—

Only for Theseus to quickly snatch it away, shuffling it into a stack of other work on his desk. “Oh, never mind that one!” he said, tittering nervously.

“Do I make that expression often?” Asterius asked, ducking his head abashedly. It had been such a tender thing, almost _sweet..._ No one had ever described, let alone _depicted,_ him that way before.

“Only, ah, when you do not think I am watching,” Theseus admitted. “It is one of my favorite looks on you, my dear friend.”

“I see…” Asterius snorted again, unsure what to do with himself. Luckily Theseus seemed eager to fill the silence, rifling through the work on his desk to hand Asterius another picture. “This one is a work in progress; only I haven’t gotten quite the reference I need, you see. I was actually hoping we could work on it today.”

“This is a couple,” Asterius said slowly, staring at the rough sketch. Thus far it was only one bulky figure, apparently him, joined by a smaller figure. They appeared to be in the middle of extremely vigorous— and possibly painful, judging by the roughly sketched expression on the human’s face— sexual intercourse.

“Yes, and it is quite difficult to get the right anatomy when I only have you for reference. It’s meant to be part of a series, you see— the gradual growth of an erotic entanglement between a minotaur and a human. This is the culmination of the series. It’s been _very_ in-demand since I first started sharing the racier work with your form.”

“Truly?” Asterius asked. Surely this was just Theseus fluffing things to make him feel better about his reluctance to engage with the artist’s audience directly. Truth be told, he was somewhat scared of Theseus’s patrons; they seemed very demanding and...eager. In a way that Asterius was not sure he wanted to encourage.

“Indeed! You should see the comment section on my work, dear Asterius. Enough eggplant emojis to start a stand at the farmer’s market.” He flagged slightly. “Alas, I fear I may never get them quite right. I am right in assuming that you would not be comfortable baring your body with a stranger simply to indulge my creative whims?”

“You are correct,” Asterius said evenly, his heart racing at the mere idea. Alone with Theseus in his little studio was one thing, but he would not enjoy such wanton nudity with a stranger, no matter how platonic. “With all but you, it is a struggle to feel properly safe when so exposed.”

“Of course,” Theseus said, nodding. “You are a shy creature, my dear friend. I have seen how you look for blackguards and foes in even the brightest corners of the world. I do try to protect you when I can, to put your mind at ease when we must traverse the public together.”

Asterius ducked his head, touched. “Indeed, Sir. And I appreciate it most sincerely. I wish to assist you in any way I can, but I am not sure I could impose my monstrous body on another person, even one hired such as I purely for physical form.”

“You are a fine specimen, Asterius, with nothing to be ashamed of,” Theseus assured him. “But I know you are sensitive. Hmm…” The artist thought heavily for a moment, biting his knuckle as he looked around his studio as if trying to put together a number of ill-cut puzzle pieces. _“Hmm…”_

And then something occurred to Asterius. A grand idea, to be sure— perhaps he could make up his reluctance to Theseus with this suggestion. “Sir.” Asterius huffed, straightening his spine minutely as he thought of the brazenness of what he was about to say. “Your camera. We have used the timer function before. Could we not do so now?”

“The timer?” Asterius stared at him, befuddled.

“You say your devotees wish to see art of mysel— of a minotaur with a human. Surely you have used yourself as references before?”

“My body is as much a work of art as any of my canvases; of course I have used myself as reference before, my bovine friend! But to do so now…” He eyed Asterius with an unidentifiable expression, biting his lip as he seemed to wrestle with the idea. Asterius tried not to let his disappointment show in the tilt of his ears; of course Theseus would be reluctant to be so close to him: no matter how he admired Asterius aesthetically, it was purely artistic; he surely would not want to spend such close time in such intimate postures together as to simulate sexual acts.

But Theseus surprised Asterius by saying, after a great many excruciating moments thinking, “Yes, of _course_ , you _are_ full of such wonderful ideas, dear Asterius! It’s the only logical choice: we will have to pose together for this series.”

After several minutes setting the scene, Theseus bouncing around the room to set up the lights just so, they finally stood staring at each other warily. Asterius huffed once, feeling his body go hot at Theseus’s frank assessment. The artist’s eyes were bright, shining as always with hope and determination.

“Ah!” He said, pounding one fist into his palm. “I have forgotten the most important part. How can I reference the erotic set of our bodies if we are still clothed? My dear friend, I must insist you bare yourself to me once more.” Scarcely done speaking, Theseus began to disrobe, shucking his clothes with such speed that Asterius was surprised the idea had not occurred to him earlier. Asterius followed suit, albeit much more slowly.

At last, both nude in the warmth of Theseus’s studio, they stared at each other for a moment. Then Theseus put his hands on his hips, his confident posture offset by the bounce of his mostly-flaccid cock between his legs. “Well! Shall we get started?”

The room suddenly seemed quite warm. Asterius kept his eyes on Theseus’s collarbone as he asked, “Where do you want me, Sir?”

Theseus coughed, his face pinkening slightly. “I want— that is, my patrons have requested— that I display your considerable bulk, er, dominating m— a human physically. Holding them off the ground, great messy debauchery, etc. Do you think you can support me long enough to get a photo?”

Asterius snorted again, his heart racing as he thought of his previous fantasy of grabbing Theseus by the hips and holding him in place to use quite rudely. “I will hold you as long and hard as you need— for the shot,” he added quickly. It would not do to impose his desires on Theseus now.

Theseus waved the wireless remote for the camera in one hand. “I can set the shot as soon as we are in position. You will not have to hold me long, my friend.”

They started with a few simple poses: Theseus guided Asterius’s hands to his waist. “Your hands seem much larger against my own body,” Theseus marveled, leaning into Asterius’s touch appreciatively. “Why, you could probably circle my waist with the two of them.”

In a later position, Asterius cupped Theseus’s jaw in one hand, leaning down as if about to kiss him. His breath held in his throat, the air warm between them. Several long moments stretched as the camera clicked a few times, the sound of it whirring away the only distraction from Theseus’s bulk against Asterius’s chest.

But it wasn’t quite right. Theseus leaned against him, yes, the pose intimate. But the human was careful to keep his groin clear of Asterius’s own, almost a foot of space awkwardly held between them.

“Sir.” Asterius cleared his throat. “Will it not look odd if our hips are so far apart? You may lean on me if you wish.”

“I, ah, yes, very good idea, Asterius,” Theseus blustered. He hesitated a moment still before pressing himself flush against Asterius’s front. “My, your fur is so— so soft,” he marveled, almost to himself. “And warm.” He looked up at Asterius, his brow cast down in worry. “You are sure you don’t mind being so close to me?”

“It is not unpleasant,” Asterius murmured back.

They stared at each other, wavering slightly for a long moment. Theseus’s gaze seemed to falter, flicking over Asterius’s face searchingly before settling on his lips for a long moment. He leaned in, eyes fluttering closed, and it took all Asterius’s willpower not to close the millimeter gap before

CLICKFLASH

The camera shutter whirred and Theseus pulled back, his face pink and eyes downcast. Asterius was suddenly very grateful that his body did not show arousal the same way as a human’s; the inappropriate excitement thrummed through his body, every nerve alight where Theseus gripped him, one hand on his arm, the other on his waist.

“One more?” Theseus asked. “Perhaps— against the wall, as in the sketch?”

Asterius nodded, following Theseus to the edge of the room and waiting for him to adjust the tripod once more. Theseus leaned against the wall as casually as he could— which was admittedly not very casually at all— and looked up at Asterius expectantly. “Your hands,” Theseus murmured, uncharacteristically quiet. “On my waist again. Please?” he asked breathlessly.

“Of course,” Asterius murmured in return. He placed his hands on Theseus’s waist once more, ducking down. He couldn’t angle too low or his horns would have scraped the wall behind Theseus; it was a joy, however, to feel Theseus lean in against him, rising up on his toes and stretching his broad, muscular body up to fit into the curve of Asterius’s chest, the bulk of his arms. It was an astoundingly intimate position, and Asterius was sure that Theseus must have been able to feel his heart drumming away in his chest; yet Theseus only sighed, hands joining at the back of Asterius’s broad neck, as he leaned in once again.

And there: that pause, that made Asterius’s ears flick nervously, his tail taut at attention behind him. His belly warmed, and Asterius began to fear that he would show his cards too easily and scare Theseus off.

And then Theseus’s lips were on his own, soft and supple against the sensitive velvet of his snout. It was an unusual kiss, the gentlest Asterius had ever known, and he did not know how to react at first. He waited for the click of the camera or the flash of the lights; it did not come, but neither did Theseus stop kissing him, the press of his lips insistent against Asterius’s own.

He sighed, a great rumble of air through his chest, and leaned further into Theseus’s bulk before him. “Theseus…” he sighed, hands slipping down to the artist’s hips, pulling the human flush against him.

CLICKCLICKCLICKWHIRRR

“Oh, that was a good one, despite the lag on the controls. Thank you,” Theseus said breathlessly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His face was a bright, hibiscus pink, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. Asterius fought the urge to nuzzle in against him, settling instead for renewing his grip on Theseus’s hips.

“Do you need more, Sir?”

“I…” Theseus hesitated, biting his lip again as he looked up at Asterius from within the cradle of his arms. “Just the one we discussed earlier...” He turned around now, arms braced on the wall. He looked over his shoulder at Asterius, his gaze inviting, but a touch nervous. “Closer, friend Asterius, if you please.”

Asterius snorted, willing his cock to stay down as he pressed himself up against the artist’s back. Theseus’s hips wiggled just so, his bare bottom rubbing unknowingly against the sensitive skin of Asterius’s sheath just hard enough that the minotaur fought a groan, instead insistently pressing _into_ Theseus, hoping the pressure would get him to stop.

It did— but also incited a moan. Asterius froze as Theseus whimpered under him, eyes fluttering closed. The camera clicked several times as Theseus pressed back against him. The human’s breath was heavier now, and Asterius stayed completely still, not sure what to do. His grip on Theseus’s hips tightened; again Theseus moaned, the noise low and wounded.

Asterius fought a groan as his cock emerged from its sheath and slid wetly against Theseus’s back, painting a slick stripe of precome against his sacrum.

“Ah, Asterius…” Theseus gasped. “Your manhood…”

“Pay it no mind, Sir,” Asterius snorted, trying to maintain his composure.

“Asterius,” Theseus moaned again. He rocked back against Asterius’s cock, one hand reaching back to grasp— Asterius inhaled sharply, the smell of arousal and sweat thick on the air. This was all too complicated. “Asterius, please, I cannot— I do not wish to—“

“You do not wish—?” Asterius startled, his hands yanking away from Theseus’s hips as if he had been burned. He backed away immediately. His front felt the chill without Theseus pressed against him, but had to hide his treacherous body. “My apologies, Sir. I have taken liberties—”

“What?” Theseus lay collapsed against the wall like the debauched protagonist of a harlequin novel, skin rubescent from finely-chiseled cheeks to heaving chest. He stared at Asterius dazedly, confusion clear in his eyes. “Liberties?”

Asterius stumbled back further. “You do not desire me the way I desire you, and I have been presumptuous, nay, _indecent_ to you—”

“No, dear Asterius, the error is mine!” Theseus leapt after him and grabbed Asterius’s hands in his own, pulling them to his chest. The man’s cock still bobbed, rigid and red where it slapped against Asterius’s thigh. “I have not made clear my intentions. I had thought— oh, how foolish I’ve been! So long have I admired you, and never made my affection clear. Asterius, I—”

“Sir?” Asterius stared, hopeful but unsure.

“You are my muse, my sole source of joy and inspiration in this cold, hard world. I would wake next to you every morning just to feel your warmth and lust for life— and lust for _me_ , if I have not mucked it all up in my misinterpretations…”

“Ah, Sir...” Asterius made to reach out to Theseus, to hold him as he had wanted for so long, but Theseus turned away, pulling at his hair in despair.

“Oh, damn my traitorous libido! Damn my indecent heart!” Theseus cried, leaning against the wall once more as if the weight of his misplaced guilt was so heavy that he could support himself no longer. The studio lights shone off his tan, faintly gleaming body. “You shall never forgive me, I take it— as you should not! I am a wretch—”

 _“Theseus.”_ Asterius spoke louder than he had in a very long time, his voice booming off the walls of the tiny studio. “Stop.”

Theseus froze, his lamentations falling silent. Asterius walked up behind him, laying one large hand on Theseus’s shoulder to urge him to turn around, the other brushing the disarrayed locks out of Theseus’s face. Asterius snorted once, unsure of himself, before leaning down. His thumb brushed over Theseus’s cheek, the skin soft under his palm. Theseus’s eyes were so _bright…_

“You were not wrong,” Asterius said at last, his expression soft. He leaned down, brushing his lips along Theseus’s jaw. He lay a gentle kiss on Theseus’s startled mouth, the press of his lips even softer than their play-act for the camera mere minutes before. “You were not wrong,” he repeated.

“Truly?” Theseus murmured, his hand coming up to stroke along Asterius’s snout. “You— towards me?”

“Yes,” Asterius said simply. There was a moment of tension, the thread of it spider-silk thin as his words seemed to process, and then—

He gasped as Theseus surged up against him, a quiet “Asterius!” exclaimed as his arms wrapped around Asterius’s neck to pull himself higher. Theseus’s lips were insistent against his own, this kiss filthier than any Asterius had had before. The feel of it ignited something in his chest, the heat of its urgency spreading down into his belly and lower. He found himself groaning, hands dropping to Theseus’s rear now that he had permission to touch.

The revelation of it all was dizzying. Asterius’s breath was heavy in his throat as he hefted Theseus higher, hoisting him up so that he could kiss him more easily. Theseus was not a small man, but Asterius was still massive— a fact that Theseus seemed to appreciate, going by the wanton moan he let out as he wrapped his muscled legs around Asterius’s waist.

Now it was impossible to ignore the hot length of Theseus’s cock against his belly, the slick of it smearing into his fur. Asterius groaned, his hands tightening on Theseus’s buttocks, pulling him as close as he could to grind his own cock up against the human.

 _“Please,”_ Theseus begged, rolling his hips and squeezing against Asterius’s bulk. He moaned as Asterius launched away from the wall, carrying him over to the same loveseat Theseus had once worshipped him on.

Asterius set him down as gently as he could— which was difficult, as Theseus clung like a limpet— and huffed, his hands stroking up and down Theseus’s sides.

“Do you have—?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Theseus gasped.

Asterius sat back on his heels, trying desperately to calm himself as Theseus hopped up and dug through his messy drawers and desk. “I have— damn, where is it? I have lubricant around here somewhere for, er, _very logical reasons…_

“Oh, damn my unthinking past...linseed oil would likely not work...masking fluid would _definitely_ be a bad idea _...aha!”_ He brandished a nearly-empty bottle of lube from the side drawer of his desk, then clambered back to where Asterius waited for him. “Might we…?”

“Come,” Asterius said, astounded by his own brazenness as he beckoned Theseus closer. When the human was within reach, Asterius pulled him down onto the couch with him, laying his own bovine body over Theseus’s back. It took barely a thought to take the bottle from him, smearing slick between Theseus’s thighs and shoving the two firm slabs together.

“Ah— Asterius?” Theseus said, his excitement tinged with panic. “Tell me your thoughts, dear one.”

“You wished to be used,” Asterius said, his breath heavy in his chest. He inhaled sharply, savoring the scent of paint and sweat and pure, masculine arousal in the air. “I wish— I wish not to _use_ you, as such, but— Sir, if I may—” He squeezed Theseus’s hip with one broad hand, spreading the human’s cheeks even as he pressed his cock against the seam of Theseus’s joined thighs.

“Yes!” Theseus all but squeaked, clenching up further as he pushed back against Asterius. “Oh, please…”

Asterius grunted as his cock pushed between Theseus’s thighs. He felt impossibly huge against Theseus’s body, his hips not slim for a human but still dwarfed by Asterius’s wall of muscle behind him. Theseus moaned high and loud as Asterius’s cock slid between his legs, the head of it nudging and sliding against Theseus’s own balls and shaft only to peek out the other side.

“Ah, you’re so wet, Asterius…” Theseus moaned, collapsing forward against the back of the couch, one hand reaching down to rub Asterius’s cock head amazedly. He rocked back against Asterius, the slap of their hips echoing through the room. “I’ve thought about this for— for _weeks_...ah!”

“Theseus…” Asterius groaned, kissing along the artist’s neck and shoulder. Theseus’s thighs were hard muscle, unforgiving in their density but hot, slick with the lube and Asterius’s own fluids...He wrapped one arm around Theseus’s waist— and ah, it _was_ as he’d thought so many times: he could pull Theseus against him with only one arm around his middle, the other free to force the human’s thighs even more tightly together. He moaned again as he jerked against Theseus’s back, slamming into him over and over. On one backwards movement his cock slipped out and skidded against Theseus’s crack instead, the blunt head of his cock catching on his rim.

“Please…!” Theseus moaned— and the desperate edge of it made Asterius’s heart _sing_ with the need to be closer, to push into Theseus and _mark_ him somehow, to make it known that Theseus was his, damn what the world would think, never mind the consequences…

“Nex— next time,” Asterius panted, shoving back between Theseus’s thighs. “When I can— ah!-- be gentler with you, Sir.”

“Damn gentle,” Theseus groaned, shoving back against Asterius’s hips. “I want your cock; I want the mess and the ache and I want _you.”_

“Patience,” Asterius gasped, slowing his pace. He drew back once, slowly, before slamming forward. “You have me.” He reached around Theseus’s waist and found, to his amazement, that he could grip the both of their cocks in one hand if he pressed up _just so_ against Theseus. “Theseus…!” He moaned, sucking kisses along the artist’s shoulder. He was not a creature prone to biting, but still the urge to bruise and mark the human was there...and Theseus was ever so receptive to it, tilting his head obligingly to one side to give him access.

It was that way, stripping their cocks together in one messy, wet slide, that Asterius found his end. He groaned, jerking as he spilled between Theseus’s thighs, rope after wet spill of come slicking the slide even further until his knuckles dripped with it, Theseus near tears with the oversensitivity of so much hot, wet pressure around his cock. Asterius found himself wishing for a second wind as Theseus arched against him, crying out as he, too, came almost violently apart, the taut muscles of his legs twitching and clenching deliciously against Asterius’s length.

In the end, they collapsed in a tired, wet pile. Asterius rumbled happily when Theseus scrambled on top of him to lay bodily against his chest, arms wrapped as far as they could go around his barrel-chested middle. He very carefully did _not_ rest his knee along the seatback of the couch, where a great wet spot dripped questionably. In fact, _both_ of them were covered in spend and oil and lube and probably whatever else had ever been spilled on the couch; it was not a very clean piece of furniture, and never would be again.

“Ah…” Theseus sighed, giving Asterius’s middle a squeeze. He seemed utterly satisfied, his body lax and warm in Asterius’s arms.

Asterius sighed, his heart finally settling in his chest with satisfaction, and squeezed him in return. Soon enough this tiny piece of furniture would become uncomfortable and they would be forced to reckon with the mess they had made— Asterius decidedly did _not_ look forward to cleaning his fur tonight— but this. This was nice.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on twitter @GoInterrobang to see what other bullshit I'm up to lately. ;-)


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